Intentions Without Connotations
by ryry.x
Summary: Harry is about to enter into his seventh year at Hogwarts, knowing this will be just like every other year-- abnormal & dangerous. With Voldemort gaining power, Harry starts to doubt himself. Until he meets someone who changes & saves his life.


_**C **_hap**t**_e_r__O_n_e_.

song inspiration by _**Q**_**ueen**  
Dynamite with a laser beam  
Guaranteed to blow your mind

It was a quiet night on Privet Drive, just as it always was. Unlike every other night, however, there was an unusual cold stillness that hung in the air. The only movement came from a small bat skirting through the neighborhood, flying as fast as it could looking for a place to find shelter before the dawn. It was flapping its tiny wings silently past the window of one of the identical houses when it was startled by a shout, nearly falling out of the sky.

Just inside the window, a scrawny boy of seventeen woke, gasping for breath--his hand flying to the skinny lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. His eyes were shut tight, and his teeth were clenched in an attempt to block out the pain as he tried to hold on to the memory of the dream that had woken him.

"Merlin," the boy whispered through his teeth. "Just when you start thinking they'll stop."

As the pain lessened ever so slightly, he slowly opened his eyes and watched the small alarm clock on his bedside table blink from 1:59 A.M. to 2:00 A.M. before swinging his legs over the bed and walking to the window. A frown touched his lips as he looked out at the empty street; it was too far silent, too still, for not even the wind blew. He let out a sigh and watched his warm breath mist the glass over, giving the dim street lamps an eerily angelic glow.

Closing his eyes, he pressed his hot forehead to the fogged window and welcomed the cold. He felt it slowly seep to the rest of his body, and he did not push away until he felt a small shiver go down his spine. He then crossed the tiny room in two strides to his dresser, pulled it open and turned to the full-length mirror inside the door. Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, glared back at him. His hair messier than usual, his pale skin was ghost white and glistening with sweat, his green eyes alight and burning.

The scar sent another dull pang of pain through his body. Harry let out an exasperated moan as he fell back onto his desk chair, his hands coming up to cover his face. _How can I be The Boy Who Lived when it feels like I'm dying every time I wake up?_ He sighed again and allowed his mind to replay the dream that had woken him. Unlike most dreams, this one didn't slip through his memory; it was as if his brain had recorded it on a Muggle DVD. It had been so much more _real_ than any he had ever had, just like he stepped into the Dursley's new flat screen TV...

He stood there, in the middle of a forest, feeling the numbing cold wash over his body. He looked around to take in his surroundings. _This must be a dream,_ he thought. The colours were too vivid, images too sharp, but it also felt too real. He looked up at the sky; the velvety blue hues and sparkling silver dots were overtaking the waning orange and pink light, the last remnants of the day. In the forest, splashes of blood-red and pale orange made streaky ghostly patterns on the tree branches. As his eyes adjusted, they fell upon three hooded figures standing three yards to his right, blending in with the rest of the dark forest. With a chill, Harry recognized the man in the center. It was impossible not to recognize the red eyes and bone-white skin of Lord Voldemort.

"This is the last time I will ask you," Voldemort said in a calm and dangerous voice. "Where are they hiding?" Unconsciously, Harry took a step back, thinking Voldemort was talking to him.

"Well this is the last time I'll tell you; I don't bloody know." Harry's body tensed and his head jerked an inch to the left to find the source of the voice; his eyes widened when he realized that Voldemort was talking to a boy who was lying crumpled on the forest floor. His voice sounded weak, as though it hadn't been used in far too long though something very familiar about the slight rasp of it. These thoughts were pushed aside, however, when Voldemort took in a deep breath, before he spoke again.

"I am finding it difficult to understand why you are protecting those pathetic little friends of yours." He growled, the words coming out in a barley controlled hiss. "It's not something someone in your family would usually do. But I need that information, and I need it no-"

"And I'm the only one who can give it to you." Again, Harry was surprised to hear the boy's voice. It sounded almost innocent and childlike, and again he was distracted by the familiarity of it. When he spoke again, Harry thought he could hear a smile in the voice. "Though, I must admit, I'm fairly disappointed in you, Tom, for not having found everyone yet. I suppose you can't afford to lose your two best body guards-"

"Do not patronize me!" Voldemort raised his wand and sneered. "You are not in a position to be making your little jokes. I could destroy you just as qu-"

Suddenly, with unnatural speed, the voice on the ground stood and threw back her hood. Harry gasped as he did a double take. _Her_ hood? Where he had been expecting a teen boy, a beautiful girl was standing. She looked no older than he, but as she glared at Lord Voldemort, Harry swore he could feel the forest shuddering around him. The two men who had not spoken yet had thrown their arms up, and even Voldemort took an alarmed step back and gripped his wand tighter. This fascinated Harry. Who was this ordinary young woman who could put _the_ Lord Voldemort on his toes? He had never even seemed this worried even when facing Albus Dumbledore. And Harry knew, just by looking, that there was very little that was ordinary about this girl.

When she spoke again, all weakness was gone. "'Just as' what? Just as quickly as you destroyed my family?" She suddenly let out a bark of a laugh. "No, that's giving you far too much credit. You were too cowardly to murder my family yourself--again you had to send your bloody little minions out to run your dirty errands for you."

She flicked her wrist towards Voldemort; his wand, ready to strike, instantly few out of his hand, leaving his fingers to hold nothing but air. Harry's eyes widened at the girls reflexes. _She can do magic without a wand?_ he thought to himself. Everything seemed to have frozen for a few seconds, and Harry dared not to even breathe. His eyes shifted to the girl, who was now standing with her hands behind her back, the fingers of one hand wrapped tightly around Voldemort's wand. She stared at Voldemort, her eyes wide as though to give the impression of innocence; her lips, however, were twisted into a sly smile. Harry's eyes shot back to his right as Voldemort began to move; his eyes were smoldering with fury, and he took another deep breath.

Harry knew what was coming next. He tried warning the girl, the words rolling around on his tongue, but he couldn't form them in time. Voldemort raised both of his hands and shierked, _"Crucio!"_ Harry almost snapped his neck as he spun around. He expected to hear the girl scream in pain, watch her falling to the ground and wither in agony. But it never happened. Feigning pain, the girl took a step backwards, her back hitting the trunk of a tree outlining the dense forest. Her eyes never breaking their contact with Voldemort's face, she slid down the tree until she landed harshly, dust billowing up from the contact point. She pushed her long dark hair back as her perfect face split into a lopsided grin.

"Oh, honestly, you are pathetic—even when you've got me drugged I still win."

"_Avada Kedavra!_" A blast of green came from Voldemort's hands, and before Harry had even registered the girls insult in his head, she was behind her tree giggling again; a chunk of bark taken out of the tree where her face had been half a second before.

"You know death doesn't scare me, Tom," she said matter-of-factly.

"Then why run?" he replied slowly through gritted teeth.

"Well, I don't plan on being killed by you," she said from behind the tree. "Not enough honor in that for me, is there? Even for someone with my family's history." Harry's jaw jropped when she stepped calmly back into view, for the wizards on either side of Voldemort had their wands ready to blast her to oblivion.

"But it's mostly for your sake actually; you'll regret it if you kill me now. You still need what I know," she said, tapping her head with a knowing smile. It seemed that Voldemort could not disagree for he lowered his hand, but the man standing to his right sent a jet of electric blue at the girl's heart. She fell to the ground, her hair completely spilling from her hood. The man swore, as if the spell was supposed to do more than force her to the ground. Harry only relaxed when he saw the girl lift herself up and pushed the hair out of her eyes, which were, very unexpectedly, starring into Harry's green ones.

Harry was lost from all time and space, forgetting that the most dangerous wizard in the world was yards away--it was as if she had him under some strange spell. Her eyes were a strange deep golden brown colour; they looked as wise as Albus', smart as Hermione's, and wild as the Weasley twins all in one. Looking into them felt like a breath of fresh, clean air, like hearing a beautiful melody and feeling the spray of the sea on his face. He jumped when she closed them and saw concentration etched on her face as she muttered under her breath; when she opened them again, Harry saw a fork of lightening reflected in her dark, golden eyes. He looked up at the sky and gasped; not but three minutes ago, there wasn't a single cloud in the sky. Now he could see streaks of lightning, lighting up thick ominous grey clouds that seemed much too low to be natural. He felt rain hit his hair as he looked at Voldemort's shocked face. He looked back at the girl who was again staring at him. He felt his brows knit in confusion at the look on her face. Then abruptly, he couldn't feel anything besides the scorching, skull-splitting pain of his scar. His vision was blurred, though he wasn't sure if it was it was just the pain, or if tears were mixed upon his face wih the rain. The only thing he could see was a blinding white and the image of the girls face burned into his memory.


End file.
